Pack
by miashay
Summary: The transgenics from "Bag 'Em" Dark Angel, 2-2 come to Terminal City. Primarily set during my other fic "Walking Wounded". Alternate POVs.
1. In a Nutshell

Pack

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Includes spoilers for the entire series, particularly 2-2 ("Bag Em"). You may also want to be familiar with my other DA fics "Exit Strategy" and "Walking Wounded". **

_This is the result of a few suggestions from reviewers, who wanted to hear some younger X's POVs of the going ons at Terminal City. Lucky for me, show canon has a few handy. _

**Chapter 1: In a Nutshell**

The first they heard of the siege was a thirty-second newsbreak that interrupted Bug's Saturday morning cartoons.

She'd been shuffling around the kitchen, looking for the toaster, when the young X8 yelled to her from the living room.

"Ralph, Max is on TV!"

She arrived in time to see the last ten seconds, caught the words "standoff" and "barricade", and was dialing before Bug caught sight of her standing behind him. She let the phone ring twice before hanging up and dialing again. He picked up after the first ring.

"We just got here Ralph, what's going on?" he asked. He sounded annoyed, but this was important, so she squelched the urge to snap at him.

"Just wanted to let you know we've got some relatives coming into town," she said, voice remarkably steady, despite her heart rabbiting in her chest. She waited for his reply and, when none came, she repeated herself, slow and purposeful.

Seconds passed. She caught some muffled whispering then, nothing.

* * *

They had their first close call about three months after the fire.

They were living in Canada, about an hour and a half across the border, using the names and IDs Max had given them. Her and Zero had jobs at a diner near the house they were squatting in, while Fixit and Bullet worked at a local garage. All four of them watched over Bug, though they were still mostly calling him Bugler then. They took turns tutoring him on every subject under the sun, teaching him hand-to-hand, and drilling him on the survival skills he'd missed in his aborted Manticore training. They worked together, learned to live in the world together. They became, for all intents and purposes, a family, just like Max had promised.

The close call sprouted from an accident at the garage. Fixit was working on the chassis of a semi, on her back and vulnerable, when something, somewhere broke, and the whole thing came crashing down on top of her. Well, it would have, if Bullet hadn't been standing nearby.

At first, they thought they were in the clear. Their boss made them both sign some paperwork about their "work related incident", and a few offhand comments were made about freak rushes of adrenaline. No one mentioned the improbability of an average sized, seventeen year old boy catching and lifting a 12,000-pound trailer.

But if they had learned anything from Manticore, it was the value of vigilance. Zero scouted out the place the next morning before dawn, just in case. He found Agent White waiting there with two cars full of backup.

They were packed and on the road by sunrise.

* * *

"Steve?" she spoke into the silence, "Bullet?"

Bug watched her from the couch, his small face scrunched up with worry and confusion. Ralph bit her lip and smiled at him weakly. She allowed a stray hand to comb through his hair, while running contingency plans in her head. Finally, a voice came over the line.

"Hey Ralph. I hear we've got company coming in?"

Ralph sighed in relief before answering, "Yeah, May. They headed out last night; should be here before dinner."

"Shit," Fixit swore quietly, "you better call Robert, have him come over and help you clean up. We'll see about getting out of here early."

The two girls ended their call, and Ralph was in motion. She clicked off the television, ushered Bug off the couch, and sent him next door. He returned less than a minute later, Zero following briskly behind him. More than half of her clothes were already packed.

"What's the situation?" the X6 asked.

"The _situation_ is unstable. We have to go," she stated matter-of-factly. She moved into the bathroom, bags in hand, and started to collect toiletries.

The two transgenics just watched her move, momentarily slack jawed. The sound of the front door flying open snapped them out of it.

"Ralph! Bugler!" Bullet called frantically from the hall. Ralph took a mental note to reprimand him later for his complete lack of stealth, while Zero grabbed her wrist and pulled her from her packing into the living room.

Bullet was nearly red and panting from his exertions, a real feat for a transgenic. Fixit was standing with her back to them, facing the television. She had turned it back on, and was watching a newscast about the siege. Max's picture flashed across the screen, followed by some terrible footage of her riding some kind of flying disc.

"What is that?" Bug asked, squinting at the picture.

"That's where we're going." Ralph replied, once the screen flashed back to a wide shot of Terminal City. She twisted her wrist from Zero's grasp and asked, "Can I get back to packing now?"

* * *

Their second close call came less than four weeks after the truck incident.

They had settled a full five hours northeast of their last home; still in Canada, but hopefully safer than before. Further from White, at least.

The town was smaller than the last, with jobs harder to come by, and they didn't have the same freedom in their schedules. Bug was home alone more often than any of them liked, but the X8 was smart and cautious, so they trusted him to stay close and safe. It was a mistake.

The apartment they were living in was a short walk from a small park. Bug had been left home alone again, caught in the two-hour overlap of their shifts. He grew bored, and decided to go for a walk. He never came home.

A frantic search followed. As transgenics, they couldn't safely call the police, and were left canvassing the neighborhood on their own. Twelve hours of constant questioning and wringing their hands passed before they got their first lead, another five before they pinned down a location.

The perpetrator turned out to be an old Manticore scientist. The man was incredibly paranoid, positive that the government was hunting him. He'd seen Bug walking through the park, recognized him as transgenic, and took him. He said he just wanted leverage, some kind of bargaining chip to offer. He was a coward.

Ralph killed him herself, her first real act of violence since coming to Canada and leaving Manticore behind.

* * *

"We can't go there." Zero stated flat out. He reached for Ralph's bag full of toiletries, and headed back toward the bathroom. Ralph stopped him with a yank on his wrist.

"Max is in trouble! We're going."

The X6 shook his head, expression unchanging, and stated again, "We can't go there. Max can take care of herself. She's not alone this time, she doesn't need us; not like before."

Ralph swung her head to Fixit for support, but her friend was averting her gaze. She glanced at Bullet, and he looked furious.

"Living out here is dangerous enough," he spat, "we're not walking into _that_!" He emphasized his statement with an open handed smack to the TV screen, causing it to wobble precariously on its stand.

She watched Zero lead a visibly upset Bugler out of the room, and waited for the click of the bedroom door.

"_That _is where we belong," she hissed, "not running across Canada, trying to hide what we are."

She saw Fixit flinch out of the corner of her eye, but Bullet remained steady in his anger.

"It's not safe," he said, vehemently, "and as long as we're sticking together, I say we're not going."

"It's the right thing to do," Ralph replied.

Bullet visibly deflated at that, but still answered, "Then maybe I don't care about doing the right thing."

* * *

Their third, and most recent, close call was about three months ago.

After Bug's abduction, they changed out all their IDs and traveling papers, choosing their own names this times around. Her name officially became Ralph, with the added surname Parker (after Bug's favorite cartoon superhero). Bullet and Bugler became her brothers, Steve and Logan Parker (after some actor Bullet liked, and Bug's second favorite cartoon character, respectively). Zero became Robert Lee, named after some famous general, and Fixit his sister, May Lee (the name May Bug had picked up from some commercials he'd seen, about a disgruntled repairman).

At work and around town, they wore their new identities like armor but, at home, they still answered to the names Max had gifted them with, all those months ago. For months, they were happy. Canada was, for the most part, incredibly accepting of the transgenics. Despite their experiences, they felt safe there. They grew complacent, and let their guards slip. Then, one day, Ralph, Zero and Fixit were shopping around town, when someone caught sight of her barcode. What happened after that, Ralph couldn't say.

According to Zero, a small panic erupted. In seconds, the crowd around them became a mob, with Ralph caught in the middle of it. By the time Zero and Fixit had managed to get her out and to safety, she'd been beaten and trampled half to death.

They didn't even bother packing that time; just swung by their apartment for Bug and Bullet, and ran.

* * *

In the end, she quietly agreed to wait. It was important that they stay together; they were a family, a pack, working and living together, depending on one another. She couldn't abandon that. Instead, she bided her time. She eased updates of the siege into conversation. She watched the news nightly, and jacked up the volume during any story featuring the transgenics or Terminal City. Mostly, she just waited.

Two weeks passed, and it was Alec making headlines. Ralph was at the diner when the news broke. By the time she cashed out and got home, her things were packed and ready to go. Two days later they drove into Seattle, and headed for Terminal City.

_So that got them there, at least. I haven't decided how many chapters we're looking at here, but let me know if you want me to continue. _


	2. Contact, Part 1

Pack

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Includes spoilers for the entire series, particularly 2-2 ("Bag Em"). You may also want to be familiar with my other DA fics "Exit Strategy" and "Walking Wounded".**

**Chapter 2: Contact, Part 1**

Terminal City was a rat hole, a radioactive cesspool. It was not suitable for human habitation, and Bullet hated it on first sight.

* * *

The entire trip to Seattle had been an exercise in restraint.

The prospect of joining their fellow transgenics did not appeal to Bullet in the least. In fact, he found the idea pointless and irresponsible, but he had already pled his case and lost. Fixit was the only member of their makeshift family who seemed to agree with him, but one short talk with Zero later, and she was helping to pack and offering to drive the second shift.

Ralph was, of course, overjoyed. Her enthusiasm infected the rest of them, made them reckless and emotional, driven by this unfathomable loyalty to their transgenic brethren, till he was the only one left capable of critical thinking. Bullet bit his tongue, and tried to keep his complaints to a minimum.

He already knew he would never willingly leave them. The past year had bound the group of transgenics together more tightly than Manticore had ever been capable of doing. Of course, the strengthening of those ties merely ramped up his protective instinct, the impulse that urged him to collect his four companions and shield them from the world. Knowingly walking into a hostile situation, for the sake of misplaced kinship and fellow feeling, was almost too much to ask.

Once they reached the city, their excitement reached a fever pitch, and his patience bottomed out. He offered to find a contact to smuggle them into Terminal City, if only to get some time alone to think.

After walking aimlessly for much of the afternoon (as they had driven through the night and well into morning to reach Seattle), he headed towards the one place he was sure to find at least one transgenic sympathizer.

* * *

Jam Pony was just as dirty and run down in person as it looked on television. Bullet walked inside, working to appear casual, and immediately locked in on the man he was looking for.

Reagan Ronald was an ordinary looking man, carefully sculpted hair tampered down by his headset, eyeglasses sliding down his nose, as he peeked over their dark frames to reprimand a whining employee. Despite his overt loyalty to the transgenic cause, Ronald's business was steady, based on the piles of packages and scads of messengers milling about. He struck Bullet as a no-nonsense, yet sensible authority. If the man's regular exclamations were any indication (something that sounded like "bip bip"), he also appreciated promptness and haste. Bullet liked him immediately.

"Mr. Ronald," he called out, approaching the man, "I was hoping for a minute of your time?"

"No interviews," Ronald replied, without so much as glancing in Bullet's direction, "and no jobs. I already have enough unruly vagrants under my employ to last me to the end of days…Hey, Sector 7, bip bip!"

Bullet stepped closer, and examined the man in front him again. From this proximity, the lines of stress were more visible on Ronald's face, the slight darkening around his eyes and pinched corners of his mouth recognizable. They were the same things Bullet found every time he faced a mirror, signs of worry and anxiety.

"Mr. Ronald," he tried again, "Sir, I'm not a reporter, or looking for a job. I was hoping you could help me? Us?"

The soft inquiry caught the man's attention, and he turned away from his work in time to see Bullet gesture to the nape of his neck. The change in Ronald's behavior was astounding. He glanced over Bullet quickly and thoroughly, as if searching for signs of injury. When he found none, he waved him to the entrance of the cage, and the back office.

"Come on son," he finally replied, "we'll get you worked out."

He barked out a few more "bips", before leading Bullet inside his office, and shutting the door.

"I take it you're one of them, then?" he asked, pointing to Bullet's neck.

"I'm an X6," he answered, and offered his hand, "Steve Parker."

"Reagan Ronald," Ronald took his hand in a steady grip, "Good name, Steve, strong name. Not like most of your kind. Met another X-something of other once, called himself Peanut. Said it was the first thing he ate after Manticore went up, if you can imagine that."

Bullet silently congratulated himself on having the sagacity to use his assumed name in introductions. Not that Ronald struck him as the sort of man to hold unfortunate nicknames against a person; he had heard the messenger population refer to him as "Normal" more than once in the short time he'd spent observing the man. But he also seemed practical, traditional. Bullet could appreciate that.

"How many are with you?" he asked.

"Five, sir, including myself."

"Five of you traveling together?" Ronald cocked his head, "Why would you come here, to Seattle?"

"Is that unusual sir?"

"I would say so. Most of the transgenics I've seen are traveling alone. You know it's dangerous out there."

"I know, sir. It was not my decision to come, but the group I'm...my fam…" Bullet stuttered to a stop. He realized, for the first time, that he had never put a proper name to his group of companions. They weren't his unit, and 'family' seemed…presumptuous. His lack of a satisfactory response had him momentarily reeling, the feeling hitting him low in the stomach.

"That's all right son," Ronald said, "It's important you ban together, times like these. Can't imagine why your friends would want to throw themselves headfirst into the fire, but if they're determined, there's no shame in standing by them."

"It's Max," Bullet replied, "and Alec. They helped us escape after…they helped us. When we saw what was happening, we had to come."

At the mention of the two transgenics, Ronald's face lit up.

"You know my Golden Boy?" the man exclaimed, "The best bike messenger to ever grace these streets? The pure paradigm of transgenic perfection? Well, you know what they say, any friend of Alec's…"

Ronald reached out to pound on Bullet's back lightly. He took a moment, presumably to bask in his joy at this mention of Alec, before allowing his effervescent smile to slide off his face.

"I suppose you've heard what happened, then?"

Bullet nodded, questioned, "It was White, wasn't it? The 'unnamed government agent' who attacked him?"

"Yeah, yeah. He's gone now, good riddance. But my Golden Boy," Ronald looked around the room aimlessly, in an effort to avoid eye contact, "a few of my miscreants keep me informed about his progress. They don't think...

You know, when the news first started to report about you and your lot, they made you sound indestructible. That hold up we had here a while back, my boy got shot not fifteen feet from where we stand, and you never would have known it. He was so strong and fearless, an icon of beauty and bravery, a beacon of hope in the dark for cold, lost travelers to follow."

The man sighed romantically. Bullet fought to keep his mouth from flapping open. He thought back to his memories of Alec, though a haze of pain tempered them. The transgenic of his memory had tried to warn them. He had helped tend to Bullet's wound and helped to free Max after she was taken, but he was far from the picture of selfless virtue Ronald painted.

"What about Max?" he asked.

Ronald harrumphed in reply, "Missy Miss redefines tardiness, has no respect for authority, no interest in job security. Now she's one of the leaders of a race of genetically engineered assassins. Can't decide if I should be a proud papa, or worried about the fate of the Greater Seattle area."

"Sir? You were going to tell me how to get into Terminal City?"

Ronald nodded absently, and reached for a pen and paper from the desktop. He scribbled a name and number, before handing it to Bullet.

"There you go. Just remember to burn it when you're finished," Ronald said firmly. He waved Bullet in the direction of the door, effectively dismissing him. He didn't even raise his eyes to watch him leave.

It occurred to Bullet that Reagan Ronald was upset. He considered questioning the man, but it was not in his nature to be very curious, and he wasn't about to start now. He was halfway out the door before the answer came to him, unbidden. Ronald was jealous. _He_ wanted to go to Terminal City; to check on his "golden boy", to test Max's leadership skills. He probably even wanted to visit the child the news reports claimed he helped to deliver.

Bullet headed into the open street, shaking his head in befuddlement. He may have come to terms with his own puzzling allegiance to his…group, family, unit, whatever, but that didn't bring him any closer to understanding the dynamics of human relationship. He was beginning to think he never would.

He stopped several feet from the curb, and looked down at the paper Ronald had given him. A name and number stared back at him, completely innocuous scratches of ink. _Logan Cale_- it read, and Bullet recognized the name. He couldn't move on this alone.

He slid the paper into his back pocket, and headed home.

_While we're still getting the kids to TC, to be clear, a majority of this story takes place shortly after 'Exit Strategy', and White's attack. Therefore, the kids are in TC all during 'Walking Wounded' (I point this out because we'll be hearing from a few of them in the next chapter)._

_Thanks for reading. I know the chapters are short, but I really love having a little break between chapters of WW, and I like these kids. _


End file.
